PREFACE “Committed to Love ” “Committed To Love” details the many issues and experiences I had to face in my 25-year marriage to a bi-sexual man who died from AIDS. It contains 24 chapters with personal stories and issues ranging from his diagnosis on June 19, 1992 with pneumonia and full blown AIDS to his death on August 17, 1994. I’ve spoken extensively in South Florida on living and coping with AIDS and other terminal or life threatening illnesses. In this particular area, I feel I make my most powerful impact. I am well acquainted with the devastation of AIDS, having lost my beloved husband of 25 years to this horrific disease. My marriage was unconventional and it was difficult. But, I would do it all over again. My marriage provided me an opportunity to discover my own definition of love. For many of us, thoughts of love evoke images of champagne, roses, and chocolates. For me, however, love has always meant commitment, unconditional acceptance and action. As an active resident of Boca Raton , Florida , I know I abide by my philosophy. I’ve done extensive charity and volunteer work with Hospice and The Comprehensive AIDS Program or CAP of Palm Beach County. I’ve been a gourmet cook and author of a widely acclaimed cookbook. I’ve donated a large percentage of the sales from my book to both organizations. And I take great pride in the fact that I am an eleventh hour volunteer for Hospice and can be called in to be with a family when a loved one's death is eminent. “Committed to Love ” TROY , NEW YORK -THE JOURNEY BEGINS 1957 I met Jeffrey A.Mintz in 5th grade in Troy , New York . I remember him looking at me and saying "I like your Bobby Socks." I was only 11 years old and a stranger in a new school. He made me feel accepted and I knew then there was a connection. At that very moment there was something special about him. We began an incredible friendship that endured throughout grammar school, high school and college. I was, however, not prepared for the events that were to follow. I was a dental hygienist living in Boston and had come back home to Troy to marry someone else. Jeff had come back home from Springfield , Mass. to complete his Master's Degree at Albany State in Educational Psychology. One passionate encounter on a very special evening led to an unexpected pregnancy. It was 1968. Abortion was not legal. It was a small town. Jeff did what was right and expected. We told our parents and a subsequent marriage ensued. A week later while at work at the VA Hospital in Albany , I started to abort. I was taken to the doctor and later that evening on Jeff's 22nd birthday, I miscarried. No one ever knew I was pregnant except our family. I know now that it was my strong bond of friendship and caring that got me through this difficult time. With the initial cause of my marriage no longer an issue, we were at a crossroads. I remember, we looked at each other and said, "Well let's see what we can do." We tried because we cared. We always had a passion and there was chemistry. He was my best friend. “I loved him I adored him." Four months later, my devotion was put to another test. On our honeymoon in Spain , Jeff confessed to me that he thought he was bisexual. He had a desire for men in his life. I remember thinking, "I was 22 years old, married 4 months, and my husband thinks he is gay." I was in a living nightmare. Still commitment prevailed and we managed to find a way to make our marriage and friendship work. As careers dictated, in 1971 we moved to Gainesville , Fla. where Jeff received his Doctorate Degree in Special Education. We moved to Houston in 1974. He then set up a private practice and his own management consulting company. Our final move was to Boca Raton in 1985. Through the years, our unique relationship endured its share of hardships, as well as the great times. I could have screamed it out loud so many times, "As a marriage it was difficult. As a friendship it was perfect." Common goals, shared values, and a sense of fun and adventure held us together during the most trying periods of our life. However, it was the next incident that would consequently alter the course of my entire life. It was in 1981. While watching a news program the topic of AIDS was discussed. I was frozen in my body. The so-called "Gay Men's Disease" was taking young men's lives in San Francisco . I knew at that very moment, I had the reason why I was to stay with him and love him. I fought so hard not to think that this disease could happen to my Jeff, but I knew in my heart of hearts, that one day it would. He had been so promiscuous with so many lovers. My only choice to protect myself was celibacy. Instead of wallowing in self-pity about my circumstances, I channeled my energies into piano playing, bodybuilding, and writing my cookbook. In keeping with my commitment to Jeff and our marriage, we remained intimate at all other levels and managed to stay together. The years went by. We had our friendship, our security, and our denial that we had such issues and problems. Anything and everything can be put into a compartment that fits. We had our secrets well hidden from the public. On June 19, 1992 , Jeffrey was diagnosed with Pneumocystic Carinii Pneumonia, PCP or full-blown AIDS. While at his bedside for 2 weeks, I could only watch him fight for life. He lay so gravely ill. I started to document his ordeal and never stopped writing during this insanity. My writing saved me. I have recorded every detail of this period of time in 15 journals. My emotions were rampant. Rage, denial, hate, resentment, love, sadness, chaos. My toughest job was to have to tell his parents, our families, and our friends that Jeff had AIDS and how he acquired it. I could lie no more. The truth was all we had left. "My husband was a perfectionist and he kept his private life private...We keep secrets everyday and our secrets will destroy us." Family and friends continued to support us and we felt love, compassion, and loyalty. After two weeks in the hospital, Jeffrey returned home. "We danced under a full moon on July 4th 1992 ." We held each other under the stars from our balcony. He was so weak, so fragile, but he was home. His pneumonia was gone. For the next 6-8 months he rallied, though he never again would be one hundred percent. As the disease ran its course, it took its toll on both of us. Every aspect of our lives changed. We made plans. We tried to keep things as normal as possible. Nothing was normal, however. Our entire life revolved around medications, doctor’s appointments, lab work, x-rays, and so one and so on. One minute we had theater tickets and 5 minutes later he was so violently ill, he had to be carried to the bathroom. I left no stone unturned. I would do anything to restore my husband's health. We went from conventional to unconventional. We had the resources to get the best. The finest doctors, the newest drugs, vitamins, juicing, acupuncture, homeopathy, and any other thing we could find to get and keep Jeff alive. I went with him to every x-ray, every lab test, and every doctor's appointment. We were together constantly. His illness was my life. My world was crumbling slowly before my eyes. I wanted to die with him but I couldn't. I had to live and stay strong and healthy because I was his support. His life support to his eventual death. As I held him in my arms so many times night after night, he would convulse from the spiked 105-degree temperatures that accompany the illnesses associated with AIDS. I would change the sheets at 3:00 AM because his night sweats left him in a pool of water and his clothes were drenched. It was a movie. The movie was from hell. Lovingly and unconditionally, I honored the vows I'd made at the age of 22. When my husband died on August 17, 1994 it was as he lived. With pride, with love, with dignity and with his best friend and family at his side. He died at home, surrounded by the artwork, the music, and the treasures collected having extensively traveled around the world. I was at his side holding his hand and loving him when he took his last breath. Hospice was with me to give support when I had lost my love. I am very philosophical when I reflect back on this experience. "I made a commitment to him. That's the most important part of the whole thing. I just wish I could let people know how fulfilling it is to believe in something. You can live with adversity and not become vengeful. He and I had something that was worth fighting for, loving for, and dying for. I have no regrets." "I take pride that I completed a mission. I made a 360-degree completion in my life. I tied up my 25-year marriage into a neat package. I can live and go on with that. My husband never knew a day when he wasn't loved." I only give this small bit of advice, "If you make a commitment to love, LOVE." I hope that I will continue to live as I have believed. Susan Lee Mintz |